


Moth to Flame

by Vall3ncia



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24501784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vall3ncia/pseuds/Vall3ncia
Summary: One-shot recanting the story of how a certain aen seidhe sorceress became involved with a general of the wild hunt and what her life has been like since. Imlerith/Female OC. Rated M for mentions of sex and violence.
Relationships: Imlerith (The Witcher)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	Moth to Flame

The first time she fucked him, it had been thrilling. She felt as if she was dominating a beast, controlling something that could snap her neck with the slightest movement and yet refrained because of the pleasure her body was providing. In her naivete, she felt powerful. In her mind, she was executing some form of control, no matter how small or twisted, over this horrible situation she found herself in. A young aen seidhe mage stolen from her home world to serve in the ranks of the hunt. That first time with Imlerith she no longer felt like a slave. In fact, the sensation was more akin to the ultimate act of defiance. It wasn’t until the fourth time he fucked her that she realized how helpless she had really made herself.

The little freedom she had previously possessed diminished in no time as Imlerith took a liking to his nights with the girl. Soon after she had willingly dawned the metaphorical chains she now found herself ensnared in, she was plucked from her former station within the hunt and placed under his command, finding herself serving him both day and night. The soldiers' barracks no longer held a place for her to sleep as Imlerith informed her she would be given quarters within his manse. This powerful little secret of hers no longer so secret as her fellow soldiers began starring a little too long as she passed.

Her quarters at his residence were intentionally unlavish by Imlerith’s design. They were small and only slightly more pleasant than the soldier’s barracks she occupied previously. She only ever spends time there when the general finds himself uninterested in her, preferring to occupy himself with a toy he doesn’t have to worry about breaking. On those nights, she receives little sleep, often laying awake as the screams of those poor girls echo through the halls. At first, she’d felt sick with herself for being glad it wasn’t her. Now, she just finds herself praying the girl will last until morning so she doesn’t have to take her place.

When he takes her, as that is the only way to describe what would otherwise be labeled as making love, he’s rough and relentless, caring only for his own pleasure. When he brings her to her edge, it’s only as a show of control, or a mere side effect of his own pleasure. His hunger is never sated, and he often takes her many times in the same day. Her nails dig and drag across his skin as he fucks her and he allows it, but only barely. He’s sure to punish every misstep and perceived overreaching as she navigates the rocky waters of their time together.

He always cares for her when he’s finished with her, though his touch remains harsh as he drops her into the large marble bathing pool in the room adjacent to his quarters. “Clean yourself.” He commands, as he relaxes into the warm waters of the bath. If he ever leaves marks on her face, he orders a healer remove them with magic, though he always decides which scars to remove from her body and which she’s earned. Though sometimes it’s easier to lie to herself, she fully recognises that this caring stems only from a place of possession, a recognition that a blade must be cared for if it is to last.

The general’s need to dominate her extends far beyond the reach of his bedchambers. In the courtyard of his manse, he often forces the mage to duel him for hours, thrilled by the prospects of triumphing over a foe. She soon realized that one of her largest appeals to him was the fact that she was capable of putting up at least some semblance of a fight against him. Though in the end, he always wins. 

She has long been stripped of any pride she could have once drawn from her work within the hunt. Though she resented her forced servitude to them, there was once at least some comradery within the ranks, a knowledge that many of the soldiers were in the same position as her. Now, no one was in the same position as her, and it was terribly lonely. Other soldiers avoided her, refusing to speak to her out of fear of inciting the general’s wrath. The diligence in her work increased as any failure or falter led to her being humiliated in front of her peers. Imlerith would grab her by the throat and lift her off her feet, thrashing her before her fellow soldiers. He’d whisper in her ear and promise that she’d get to make up for this later. 

Though her emotions were in a constant state of indecipherable fluctuation, she was far from miserable, though she realized it would have been simpler if she was. The power that radiated from the general’s touch was intoxicating and walking the thin line between surrender and defiance excited every hunger within her. Never before in her life had she experienced the kind of pleasure that he was capable of giving. His touch was experienced, dangerous, and he knew exactly what he wanted. Before her advances, the general had occupied himself with a string of weak little mistresses who paraded in and out of his room through all hours of the night. It wasn’t until he first tasted her that he realized how intoxicating the domination of someone not so weak could be. Since that first taste, he’s never quite been satiated, though neither has the girl. 

She was like a moth drawn to fire, dancing and weaving herself around the warmth of the flames, certain that one day she would be burned if not incinerated by it, but excited by the possibility all the same.


End file.
